doors the ears never lost the drone of the waters. There were
top-notes that lifted or sank as the wind blew, but below them the deep
bass thundered on.

Ruth had doffed her riding-dress for a bodice and short skirt of russet,
and moved about the cabin tidying where she had tidied a score of times
already. Through the window-opening drifted wisps of smoke, aromatic
and pungent, from the fire she had built in an angle of the crags a few
yards from the house. (It had been the Dutchman's hearth. She had
found it and cleared the creepers away, and below them the rock-face was
yet black with the smoke of old fires.) Some way up the gorge, where, at
the foot of a smaller waterfall, the river divided and swirled about an
island covered with sweet grass--a miniature meadow--her mare grazed at
will. About a fortnight ago, having set aside three days for the
search, on the second Ruth had found a circuitous way through the woods.
A part of it she had cleared with a billhook, and since then Madcap had
trodden a rough pathway with her frequent goings and comings.
It had immensely lightened the labour of furnishing, but she feared that
the pasturage would last but a day or two. Her lover, when he came,
must devise means of sending the mare back.

She never doubted his coming. He would probably miss the bridle-path,
the opening of which she had carefully hidden, and be forced to make the
ascent on foot. But he would come. See, she was laying out his clothes
for him! He had sent to Sweetwater, at her request, two valises full,
packed by Manasseh; and she had conveyed them hither with the rest of
the furniture. Carefully now she made her selection from the store:
coat, breeches of homespun and leather, stout boots, moccasined leggings
such as the Indians wore, woollen shirts--but other shirts also of
finest cambric--with underclothes of silk, and delicate nightshirts, and
silken stockings that could be drawn like soft ribbons between the
fingers. She thrilled as she handled them garment by garment.
Along the wall hung his two guns, with shot-bag and powder-flask.

Here was his home. Here were his clothes. . . . She had forgiven him,
hours ago, without necessity for his pleading. So would he forgive her.
After all, what store did he set by church ceremony. He had vowed to
her a dozen times that he set none. He loved her; that was enough, and
assurance of his following. He would confess that she had been right.
. . .